Nightmares from the Past
by Pepa333
Summary: Ginny Weasley is experiencing horrifying nightmares night after night. Are these just silly dreams? Or are these memories from a dark past? With the help of an unlikely person, will Ginny be able to piece together the nightmares from the past?
1. The Dream

**Disclaimer: No matter how much I have wished over the years, the amazing universe of Harry Potter will never be mine. Only this plot!**

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Dear journal,

I don't know what's going on anymore. I'm so confused. It happened again last night...however, I'm still at a loss of what it could mean. Oh Merlin, what am I even talking about? It probably means nothing, yes, nothing at all. Dreams don't always actually mean anything, right? I remember Mum telling me once that dreams were a way for the unconsciousness to communicate with us. What could my mind be wanting to tell me? I haven't the slightest clue...

All I know is that waking up covered in sweat is not the way I'm wanting to spend my entire year, the term only just started; how am I suppose to deal with this all year? Perhaps I should owl Mum about taking some Dreamless Sleep potion to avoid the nightmares... but that would entail having to tell her about the nightmares, which is something I certainly do not wish to do. She's nosy enough as it is, bless her soul.

That brings me right back to square one, confused and exhausted. I never took myself for one that needed beauty sleep, but hell, one will eventually go loony after only sleeping two or three hours per night. At least I didn't wake up screaming this time. Merlin knows how the girls in the dormitory would react having been woken up by my screams a second night in a row. That surely would not have gone well...

I just want to know what it all means. Why am I having this nightmare over and over again, night after night? Why am I always in a dark room with only a faint light coming from a small window near the ceiling? Then the footsteps...I've never heard such a loud and deafening sound in my life. It always feels as if time stands still as the doorknob to the room is slowly turned, while my back is pressed against the cool cement wall. The feeling of complete and utter horror fills every inch of my body as I cling onto a thin, worn-out, red blanket. Heart thumping in my chest, I bring the raggedy blanket to shield my eyes as the door of the small room is opened and light quickly floods the area. The light is brighter than any light I have ever seen, as though I had been tucked away in the darkness for too long.

The most rememberable part of the entire ordeal isn't the way I cower in the presents of the intruders, or even the smell of rotten meat that blows through the room. The most rememberable part of the nightmare is the way the two men enter the room as two huge black silhouettes. The men slowly edge closer to where I crouch in the corner, clutching onto the filthy red blanket like it's my last hope of survival. One man reaches out with a large hand and takes hold of my tiny arm, then with an aggressive tug, the man tears me away from the blanket. Right before my eyes are covered with a smelly cloth, the last thing I see is my blanket falling to the ground, abandoned.

Then I wake up.

After all of this, the most dreadful part isn't dreaming this horrible nightmare night after night; it's having the memory haunt my thoughts day after day.

- Ginny Weasley

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**I truly hope you ****enjoyed this read. I know this isn't a lot to go on, and can be quite mysterious, however it is intended to be this way as the first chapter. All will be revealed in due time. I'm so absolutely excited about this story and I hope you are intrigued as well! Please feel free to share your thoughts. **

**Don't forget to follow to find out what all this means! **


	2. The Boy

**AN: I don't want this to be confusing, so just to let you know, this is all written as if in Ginny's journal. No, the entire story will NOT be this way. However, the first few chapters are obviously written this way. To make this clear, the middle section is NOT present. It is being written in the journal. **

**Thanks and I hope you enjoy!**

**As always, I own nothing from Harry Potter. Despite my wishes. **

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Dear journal,

Another night of dreams. Only this time, it was a different dream. Not only was it different, but I also realized a few things that I had never picked up on. For example, I somehow came to the comprehension that I was a small child; I was not my present age of sixteen, but instead had to be no older than five. Furthermore, that in this dream, I was filthy. Not just need-a-bath sort of dirty, but a covered-in-head-to-toe with dirt sort of filthy.

This dream started off just like the other: I was sitting in the small room, holding the beaten up red blanket, in the dark. However, instead of the terrifying men entering the room, something different happened.

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As I clutched to the blanket and sucked my thumb in comfort (ignoring the definite taste of dirt in my mouth), there was a small thud noise. The horrifying thought passed my mind that it was the scary men coming for me and I shielded my eyes with the blanket. The sounds of a crash and a squeal soon followed. Slowly lowering the blanket from my eyes, I noticed a small beam of light coming from the wall two paces to my left. Curiosity quickly outweighed my fear and I went to investigate.

Upon closer inspection, I realized that there was a small hole in the wall, no bigger than a galleon, where the light from another room was shining into the room I was in. Taking a quick look into the hole, I noticed the wall on the other side was painted a beautiful lemon-yellow with a blue strip running across the wall like a ribbon. Straight ahead, there was a dark wooden rocking-horse and a toy box, which had an enormous teddy-bear placed on the top. The sight was so memorizing that when a face suddenly covered the hole, I stumbled back onto my bottom.

"Father is going to be mad..." The face announced, a deep frown plastered across the forehead. The face took a few steps back to survey the extent of the damage. "He will not be happy at all."

Looking upon the figure of the small child, I was struck speechless. Had I never seen a child in these dreams?

The boy was no older than six, with pale creamy skin and a flop of blonde hair sitting on top of his head. When he spoke, small dimples formed on either side of his mouth and his piercing grey eyes took on a look of seriousness. Stepping closer to the wall again, the boy noticed where I sat in the line of light.

"Hey, what are you doing?" He asked, eyes glaring.

Swallowing in fear before answering, I noticed my throat was extremely dry. "N-Nothing," I squeaked in reply, lowering my head slightly.

He turned his head away, must having heard something in the distance. When turning back to the hole, his eyes widened with realization. "Don't tell Father," He pleaded, eyes wide in fear. My heart felt like it leapt in my throat when I registered the fear in his eyes as a reflection of the constant state of fear that consumed my life.

"Ok," I squeaked again, nodding my head as reassurance. I got to my knees and edged a bit closer, "Are you scared too?"

The boy huffed in response, as if the very thought was absurd. He shook his head as he replied, "I'm not scared of anything," Then in a lowered voice, he said, "Except Father."

"I'm scared too," I whispered, quickly glancing to the entrance of the room to double-check that the men weren't coming to take me away. I swallowed in fear again.

The boy surveyed my appearance and frowned, "Why are you so dirty? Your hair looks atrocious!"

I tilted my head to the side in confusion. "Ashroshus?"

The boy sneered disapprovingly and tilted his chin up in such a way that an aristocrat would be impressed. "It means awful. When was the last time you had a good bath?"

"I dunno."

He crossed his arms across his chest and gave a heavy sigh. "That is disgusting."

I bit my lip to keep the tears from rolling. Why was he being so mean? I didn't have a choice on how I looked.

He must have noticed I was getting upset because he quickly let his arms fall to his side and winced. "Sorry."

There was a moment of silence before the boy turned his face again, listening to something that was happening too far out of my hearing. "I have to go," he said, quickly stepping out of view. A second later, I heard the sounds of something scrapping the floor and he came back into view, pushing a small table over to the area. "I need to cover this so Father doesn't find out, alright, Red?"

"Red?" I asked, confused by what the small boy was trying to say. What was red? The table was wooden and brown.

"You," He chuckled, motioning to me through the small hole. "Your hair is messy but it is red, is it not?"

I nodded in response.

"Then, you are Red," he gave the briefest of smiles as a reassurance. "You may call me, Drake."

Again, I nodded. "Okay."

"Well, that settles it, as my Father says." He became pulling the table to rest in front of the hole, the light slowly dimming as he did so. "Don't worry Red, we can play later," He whispered in a hushed voice as the rest of the light vanished from the small room.

Moving back a bit, I felt a small piece of the wall that had fallen into the room when Drake made the hole. I quickly picked up the piece and shoved it into the place it once was, covering the hole enough to be unnoticeable. Once that was completed, I sat back down on the floor and picked up my blanket, smothering it in comfort.

Drake said we would play later.

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Then I woke up, journal. Was that not the strangest dream? I definitely do not know what to make out of it. Not only did I have a different dream, but instead of waking up covered in sweat and terrified, I woke up feeling a strange ache in my chest. In some ways, the ache was more alarming than being terrified. What do you think, journal? Have I gone crazy? Considering I'm telling a journal all my problems instead of an actual person, I probably am insane.

Oh, Merlin. I've lost it.

- Ginny Weasley

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**AN: I really hope you enjoyed that. It would help tremendously to hear feedback and thoughts, or my passion for the story will wither away. We don't want that happening! It's a great story!**

**Thank you for reading! **


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